Off To Snog Wickle Ronnikins?
by fall-into-life
Summary: HarryDraco slash. Rated for Draco's mouth.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Alright, it's slash. Alright, it's Harry/Draco. If you really want someone to blame, blame my girlfriend for the posting. hides

"So Potter?" Draco threw Harry one of his characteristic sneers and took his wand out of his pocket, pointing it at Harry and Ron with an exaggerated feminine flourish, "Off to snog wickle Ronnikins?"

Ron turned purple with rage, but Hermoine blushed, giving Draco enough confidence to continue mocking them.

"Or something better?" He licked his wand suggestively, keeping the sneer on despite having his tongue out and pressed to an admittedly phallic piece of wood.

Hermoine's blush and Ron's face both darkened considerably, but Harry determinedly pulled them both past Draco and his cronies, pausing only to snarl something vaguely threatening at the Slytherin boy.

When they were back in the common room, Ron turned on Harry in an apocolyptic rage.

"What in the bloody hell, Harry?" He exploded, as Hermoine made a noise of disapproval at them both, "Why didn't you hex him? Or knock him a good one? Or both?"

His outburst had gotten the attention of everyone in the room, who turned to stare at the pair of apparently-bickering boys, drawing a slight blush from Harry.

He looked to Hermoine, who smiled understandingly out of Ron's sight, and Harry took a deep breath.

"Because he's not worth it, Ron. I'm not getting detention because Malfoy is a git," Harry said heatedly, throwing an arm in the general direction of the Slytherin common room, "And with Voldemort," Ron and all the other Gryffindors, excepting Hermoine, flinched, "Being loose and killing people, an arse like Malfoy is the least of all problems!"

Ron stood silent for a moment before whining, "But Harry, he was asking for it..."

"And you're asking to fail Defense Against the Dark Arts if you don't finish that essay on the properties of wolfsbane," Hermoine told him sternly, and the other Gryffindors returned to what they were doing, satisfied that all the juicy bits were over, "And you're not copying mine this time!"

Harry climbed the stairs to the boy's dormitory to the sounds of Ron's pathetic pleading with Hermoine to please, please let him copy at least an inch of the essay.

He collaspsed onto his bed, sighing deeply through his conflicted emotions.

No one should make him feel this way. It ought to be illegal.

He hated Draco. Hated the cocky, shit-eating look he got on his face when he was mocking the three of them, hated his elitism, hated his father and everything the Malfoy family stood for.

But he also wanted so badly to have his friendship. Harry saw the way Draco was with his friends, knew that the Slytherin could be nice, and considerate, even a gentlemen at times.

Sometimes he would wake up nights with ill-fitting pajama bottoms, the only thing explaining them a vague thought of Draco at the back of his mind. For the rest of the night he'd have problems going back to sleep, trying desperately to ignore the bulge in his pants, the thoughts of his enemy floating through his mind and dreams.

He wanted to taste him, touch him, hell Harry wanted to fuck him senseless. He wanted to run his fingers through his platinum hair, it looked soft, so soft, drfift his fingertips over the smooth, creamy skin, he wanted Draco to scream his name. He wanted everything from the Slytherin, everything he could offer.

Harry fought with these thoughts everyday, with the hatred and desire, loathing and lust that coursed through him everytime he saw Draco. He thought about him in every spare moment he had, messed up spells for daydreaming, and was consumed by guilty thoughts constantly,haunted byhis own longings.

The worst of it all, though, was that he couldn't tell Ron. Ron, his best mate and closest friend, was not only homophobic,but genuinely hated Malfoy, with no redemption in sight.

And Harry hated lying to Ron. Hated that he had to tell him things like he had in the common room, had tofeed him half-truths and mumbled excuses.

At least he hadn't lied to him this time, at least not completely.It was true that Draco _should_ be less of a concern than Voldemort, but was he really?

Could anyone that brought out such strong, inherently conflicting emotions in Harry, love and hate, be less of a threat than Voldemort?


	2. Potter

Thank you to my reviewers, and to everyone who faved/alerted/read this fic. bows  
Fourth-face: I'm switching back and forth, but Harry will probably get more time than Draco.  
jessie: thank you muchly. It's not normally my cup of tea.  
Palamija: Thank you, and I know what you're talking about. A lot of Harry/Draco have them snogging for no reason, or without explaining why. It's hard to keep them ic.  
And, public service announcement, I need a beta.

Potter.

Draco sneered at the very thought of "The Boy Who Lived", and leaned back in his chair, ignoring the Potions lesson for the fifth time that month.

Potter.

A worthy conquest, in more ways than one.

It would please Draco equally to kill Potter, slowly and painfully...

Or to fuck Potter, slowly and painfully.

He wondered idly which one it would be, between stirring his potion counter-clockwise, and adding it bits of potion ingredients that he hadn't paid much attention to the lesson for.

His potions always came out alright, always. And if they didn't, well, Snape always marked them for full credit.

"Shit..." Draco mumbled under his breath, as the potion started to fume alarmingly. The fumes smelled of rotten eggs and cheese, and he knew that couldn't be good. What had he done while daydreaming? "Fucking Potter..."

Snape walked past him, dropping something into his cauldron, seemingly by accident, that made his potion turn the color of everyone else's.

Draco snorted a vague expression of thanks, and went back to daydreaming about Potter. About smashing his face in. About fucking his brains out. Sometimes even about both at the same time...

When class was over and everyone had gotten up to leave, Malfoy caught Harry's eye and licked his lips lavasciously at him. Harry blushed and glared, hurriedly turning to Ron and Hermoine.

"Oi, Potter!" Draco called, and Harry managed to seperate himself from his friends.

They stood a few feet away, eyes locked as the corridor cleared of students. When they were apparently alone, Draco leered at Harry and started to walk a circle around him.

"What happened to Wickle Ronnikins, Potter?" Draco said patronizingly, "Don't tell me you broke up? Or is his taste more towards... Mudbloods?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said scathingly, not bothering to turn and keep track of Malfoy as he walked around Harry.

"Or are you just tired of him, and ready for the real thing?" Draco stood in front of Harry, hands on his hips suggestively.

Harry snarled and lunged towards Draco, pushing him into a wall forcefully. They struggled for a moment before Draco kissed Harry hard, pulling the other boy into him harshly.

Harry stiffened and then relaxed a little, letting Draco's tongue into his mouth. Though they were kissing and groping at each other, neither could forget that they were enemies, and occasionally lips would be bitten harder than was neccessary. At one point Draco's tongue started bleeding from Harry's teeth, and the Gryffindor proceeded to suck on Draco's tongue, making the other boys's pants tighten.

When Harry finally drew back, both of them were gasping for breath, pausing every so often to glare at each other and whisper vague threats.

After a few moments Draco pushed Harry off of him and strutted off, throwing back a, "Till next time... Potter."

He was halfway through the corridor when rough hands pulled him back, and he felt Harry's crotch hard against his back. Draco grunted, too proud to moan and let Harry know how he had affected the Slytherin.

Harry bit his neck visciously, and Draco knew he'd have a mark for the next week, at least.

As he stood stunned that "The Boy Who Lived", "Perfect Potter", would do something like that, Harry walked away, throwing back, "Till next time... Malfoy."

Malfoy hissed and started to plan ways to get back at Harry, each worse and more painful than the last. He'd get him back, and soon.

Potter. 


End file.
